Repair Day
by Callida Freckles
Summary: Lavender has a special perspective on the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. T for injuries and mentioned death.


**Written for The Four Houses Competition.**

_with, um lots of prompts. _(47 points)

1499 words

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_"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!" _

_― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

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May 3, 1998

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It was Repair Day. That is, the first Repair Day, out of what Lavender assumed, from the state of things, would be very many. A few couples had apparated home for the night, if they still had a home, but most of the wizarding families had stayed at Hogwarts. Most of them claimed they needed to stay to help—and heaven knew, they needed it, what with guard duty, nurse duty, and food duty alone—but Lavender suspected an ulterior motive in most of them. She knew that if they left, the battle would be over, and it would all be real. All of the deaths would be stamped in their brains as official. Leaving would mean they could _choose _to come back, and when they came back, some friends, some loved ones, wouldn't be there to greet them. At least for now, leaving was too _real._

Lavender wished she could help. As it was, she had crystal ball glass splinters everywhere, her leg was stitched up from a spell gone awry, and of course, there was the matter of her new condition. Madame Pomfrey had done a fantastic job, being as it was Repair Day and Lavender was already able to sit up. Sit, however, was about all she could do. When the scar formed, it would run across the whole left side of her face. In the meantime, she had a head cast that kept her from anything a normal invalid would be able to do. Talking was out of the question. She'd tried, once, but in addition to searing pain she gained a drool puddle inside her cast, where she'd opened her mouth. It stuck to her all day. To top it, all that came out was a muffled noise no one could understand.

Her emotions, however, were strong enough to speak for her. She'd been told she wore her heart on her sleeve, but never had it been so evident as it was yesterday and today. From the moment Repair Day started, she'd yearned to be able to at least sit in the Great Hall, so she could watch them, be with them somehow. Madame Pomfrey had walked right by her, given a double-take, and returned to her. With a soothing voice, she'd said,

"Why of course, darling, and what better way to raise your spirits? I should have thought of it myself. Let's see… yes, so long as you stay out of harm's way, you'll be fine. Just promise me you won't try anything with your head or your leg?" Lavender's heart-sleeve promised fervently, as well as expressing her gratitude.

"You're welcome, dear… of course of course," Pomfrey had cooed while wheeling her to a back wall where Lavender could observe almost anything in the room.

And observed was what she did. The first thing she'd noticed was Neville, keeping guard duty. She was amazed at his maturity, but this wasn't a new revelation. Neville had amazed her all year. Not only had he gone from slightly chubby baby-face to lean and muscular over the summer, but he'd finally lived up to Gryffindor standards. He'd been so bold, standing up to the Carrows, sneaking out at nights to vandalize the school walls with pro-Muggle propaganda, trying to steal the sword of Gryffindor. He'd been loyal, too. He and Ginny had revived the DA, and they didn't forget a soul. If anyone was in need, they'd sacrifice for them, they didn't even think of themselves. But the biggest surprise had been his pride. Neville had let everyone stomp on him his whole life, but this year, he'd stomped on anybody necessary. She couldn't forget his rage when the Alecto had insulted his parents. Neville had practically exploded, shooting random bursts of indigo light that somehow hurt Alecto. It was the one day that everyone made it out of Muggle Studies without a detention, and the day they most deserved it.

Now, Neville stood alert, the Sword of Gryffindor at his side. It was a picture resemblant of a fairy-tale book. Neville was the knight at the end of the story, when he'd discovered the moral and used it in combat. Just as he was losing, he'd applied the moral to his life, thus earning the sword. The description fit like a glove, because Godric Gryffindor's sword was truly Neville Longbottom's sword now.

Lavender could only daydream about fairytales for so long, however, because Neville had been up all night, and Dean replaced him. At this, Lavender was suddenly flabbergasted—Dean had been MIA all year. When had he shown up? Had it not been the immense shock, she would have burst out sobbing right then and there. Did he know how often she had been up at night, praying for him to be alive? How many times she'd missed out on sleep, wondering, making up both plausible(ish) explanations for his disappearance and imagining horrid deaths? How she'd pined away, listening to Lee Jordan's station, soaking up every scrap of possibility?

All this was on her face when Seamus walked up, rather sheepishly. He could read her heart-sleeve better than anybody but Parvati, and she blushed for him, of all people, to see her thoughts. On the way to her he stopped, noticing a spot where a gargoyle lion should be protruding from the wall, but wasn't. He pointed to a previous lion while he said "Gemino." He then levitated the old lion's new twin, and stuck it to its spot. "Problem here is a lack of Permanent Sticking Spells," he joked, before pulling up a chair and sitting next to her. He began to talk, easily conversing with the mute.

"Hey, listen, it's alright, ok?" he started. "Actually, I've got something… well, wait. I, mean.. No, listen. I was thinking about our break-up, and how we'd lost the friendship we'd had our whole lives, and I mean that was a really bad spot in my life, ok? The whole thing should never have happened anyways, what with you liking Dean and me… Well anyways, yesterday I was thinking about unfinished business, and how so many people are dead…"

At this he stopped. He took a moment of respect for the dead, and a big breath to boot. "So, since you aren't dead—" He nervously chuckled at this. "I guess I'm just sorry, really sorry I mean. And I wish we could be best mates again."

He glanced at her face and then sighed in relief. "Good. I guess I have something else to say, then, but it's probably not a good time—but then again it probably won't ever be a good time, given our past—but best mates don't keep secrets…" Lavender's eyes laughed, but this time he missed it, busy gripping his knees as hard as possible.

"It's Katie. I mean, I've always liked her, and I think when we broke up, maybe she started to like me too. I don't know, though, I mean, we're together now." At this he looked up, blushing, and said, "At least I think we are. I mean, last night, after we buried the dead, we sorta… well I… no she pulled me behind a pillar… and we snogged."

At this, Lavender was in the best mood she'd been in for a long time, and they(he) continued to chat until Hermione noticed, gave her a brief smile, and then yelled at him to get cleaning. Seamus grinned, nodded at Lavender, and headed to a pile of useless rubble. "Evanesce," he said, pointing at the pile, and the pile disappeared. For a brief moment, Lavender wondered where the rubble goes when it disappears, but there was too much left to observe to let it linger.

After Seamus, she'd hoped the rest of the day would be light-hearted and humorous, but it didn't take long to realize that the misery wouldn't go away so suddenly. Multiple times that day, after having seen Professor McGonagall cleaning and encouraging, she would see a cat, hiding in the rubble. Tears would stream out of her eyes, soaking the strange markings in her fur. Lavender had heard rumors that their Head of House was an animagus, but now she had what she regarded as proof.

The most miserable part of the whole day, however, was when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apparated in to help. Lavender wondered why they'd left, but the pain of doing so was obvious in their faces. Mrs. Weasley, sniffing, hugged her husband long and tight, then hustled to the infirmary to help Madame Pomfrey. Her tears left a wet line on the floor, tracing her path. Mr. Weasley stared at a certain area on the floor for a rather long time before he joined some of the men in levitating the heavier rubble.

This was just a bit too much for Lavender, and even from afar Madame Pomfrey must have sensed it; for it wasn't long before she hustled to Lavender and helped her to the infirmary to rest.


End file.
